Shooting in the Dark: Second Draft
by Madame Apathy
Summary: A rewrite of the rewrite so far. Hopefully going to add to it.
1. Chapter 1

Shooting in the Dark: Second Draft

Dear Reader,

Three weeks of freedom from university has left me with very little to do, so I'm going to try and get back into the swing of writing again. Since this one looked okay I thought I'd start here. There might be a few reworks depending on my time and attention span. Thank you very much to anyone reading this.

Disclaimer: The Twilight franchise does not belong to me. The following story is non-profit. It exists solely for entertainment and education.

Chapter 1

"You can come home any time, okay? Just say the word and you can come… Izzy?"

The warm voice crackled down the phone as I stood up slowly, the floorboards moaning beneath me. Liliac walls. Yellowed lace curtains. This was home now.

"I know, Mom," I said, the words lead-heavy. Did she think I would just leave her for a dad I knew through the post and (if I was very lucky) a weekend in Forks every once in a million years? Gently, I opened the wardrobe door, raising an eyebrow at my father's fashion choices; almost Amish skirts, a purple sweater, and a ruffled dress that I'd have loved the last time I stayed over- six years before. Everything still had a tag, so I guessed Charlie was trying to grease the gears a bit, make things easier. He'd even spoke the last time we talked. Even if he'd got it totally wrong, the thought was still sweet.

"Are you sure? You sound..." The voice paused for a minute, as though trying to translate what her maternal instincts were shouting. Mom was my best friend. She was my only friend. Can you count your mother as a friend?

"Do you want me to say anything to Phil for you?" Letting the phone thud onto the pillow, I rested my elbows on my knees, my hands shoving their way through my hair and twisting strands around my fingers, half wanting to tear them from my scalp. They'd both been so good to me- mad, but brilliant, sort of like a Picasso painting. I hoped the baby would be like that. God forbid it growing up boring like me, I smiled to myself.

I didn't mind leaving, not really. It wasn't like I was leaving all my friends. Saying I wasn't liked was still being generous… Well, it wasn't really I wasn't liked as much as I wasn't _seen_. The small grains of friendship I had found at my old school hadn't been nurtured into pearls, probably because I was always reading, wasting time, hiding in my bubble or generally being that boring girl in the corner without any friends. It was a part and I played it exceptionally well. Whoever was walking the road to Heaven, I was always just be another pedestrian. In a way, I was free to have fun now.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I took a deep breath. Maybe the room could be homely. I could put photos up. The room was almost alien compared to the last time I'd been here, but I had to admit he'd done a pretty good job of the room- I could still smell the fresh paint. Really, it was beautiful. The moonlight floated down through the window, wrapping my new bedroom in a gossamer glow. Stars glimmered in the indigo sky, clear and fixed as a blueprint for a machine, and a thought hit me like a floppy wet fish. The reason for all my problems in Phoenix was me; I had no friends because I wasn't friendly, I was bored because I let myself become boring, I was hopeless because I never hoped. I was my own stupid creation. Why stay that way?

Thinking about my life turned into the string leading out of the Minotaur's cave- every solution lead to a new solution. Didn't know anyone? The school had a couple hundred students, one was bound to like me at least a little bit. Possibility of getting lost? Ask someone for directions, perhaps it would begin a friendship. Worried about awkwardness at home? It wasn't like Charlie was a bad guy. There must have been something good about him for Mom to love him, even if it fell apart in the end. Frightened about exams? Studying wouldn't hurt me.

Stretching my face into a smile, I raised the phone to my ear again, hoping that now I'd managed to convince my face that everything was fine I could convince my mother.

"It's Forks Mom, not Venus. I'll be fine, honest."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Think Apocalypse. Think evil mastermind takes over the world. Think alien invasion. Add them together, mix with a pinch of terror, leave in an oven that runs on fear, and you'll be somewhere near my feelings on that first day of school.

All right, maybe I was blowing things _slightly_ out of proportion. Maybe. For the third time that morning I yanked my hair loose, scanning my open wardrobe. I'd never spent so long choosing what to wear even for a party. My white, eyelet lace top beckoned, "Pick me, pick me, pick me!" but one look at the tempest outside told me I would need some sleeves. Instead I settled for a dull grey shirt covered by a t-shirt.

I scraped my hair into a bun. Dissatisfied, I let it back down again. My mind flashed to one of the girls at my old school, a tall, blue-eyed blonde with wavy hair that trickled like lemon juice. Why wouldn't my hair go like that? Sort of satisfied that I looked somewhere near presentable, I stared at the mirror, able to see every flaw in the dim sunrise; the hangnail on my left hand, the lurking pimple, the bushy hairs on my eyebrows where I'd been too cowardly to pluck them. Oh well, I didn't need to be a supermodel for school. I just needed to grow a spine and talk to people, make friends. _Friends,_ I smiled_, wouldn't that be great?_ The small grains of friendship I had found at my old school hadn't been nurtured into pearls, probably because I was always reading, wasting time, hiding in my bubble or generally being that boring girl in the corner without any friends. I wasn't being sabotaged by an evil cheerleader or anything dumb like that. It was just me; I had no friends because I wasn't friendly, I was bored because I let myself become boring, I was hopeless because I never hoped. I was my own stupid creation. Why stay that way?

"You'll be fine, Izzy," I mouthed to my reflection, my voice drawling like a bad actor's. Mirror Izzy frowned back at me, raising an eyebrow as though to say what my old maths teacher's catch phrase: What are we going to do with you, Isabella Swan? I didn't have an answer, so I grabbed my schoolbag, clutching it like a ray doll as I ran out the door.

"You'll be fine, Izzy. You'll be fine Iz-" At that point, it occurred to me that I hadn't actually been to this school before and, more importantly, had no clue where it was. Once this realisation hit me like a rubber chicken in a slapstick comedy, I lingered on the drive for a moment before shuffling back into the house. When I blundered back inside, the television was babbling in the background, drowning me out before I'd even started. Perhaps it was just as well, because whatever show was on was probably far more interesting than watching me dither like an idiot. What did I call this man? Dad? Charlie? I wondered if this was rude. Knowing I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, I took a deep breath and prepared to babble.

"Ch- Dad?" Mom had always called him 'Charlie', but I decided that 'Dad' was my best bet. Thankfully, I don't think he noticed my little slip.

"Yes?" He turned to face me, scrutinising me the same way I'd scrutinised myself while I was getting ready. Trying to figure out where the hell his little girl was in this mumbling teenager. I hesitated for a moment. What did I say to a familiar stranger? Maybe it was good that I'd never bothered to dye my hair or wear make-up, good that Charlie was in his uniform with the same messy, dark curls with the cow licks sticking up. Perhaps if we'd stared for long enough, we could have found each other as we were: before I grew up a bit, before he grew up a bit. But I broke the silence, so we didn't find each other.  
"Could you please tell me..." I paused, thinking of the other questions I had tucked up in my head. Did he miss Mom? Did he miss me? What the hell was meant to happen now? Stubbing out these questions like half-smoked cigarettes, I stuttered, "I… don't know the way to the school."

The truck was silent. Well, I say the van- if anything, the thing wouldn't shut up. It spluttered, it groaned, it moaned, it coughed like a consumptive. The way the vehicle seemed to talk was almost a blessing- it meant I didn't have to. I couldn't really see if Charlie was frowning or not- the moustache, you see- but he seemed less relaxed than he had in the house, his back rigid as though someone was pressing a knife to it. He tapped his fingers on the wheel rhythmically when we stopped at the red lights, mumbling something under his breath. Song lyrics, perhaps. That was what Mom always did when she was nervous. Then again, perhaps he was thinking something along the lines of, Please God, if you're up there laughing at me, will you please put me out of my misery and change the traffic lights? If so, he was in good company. Neither of us were huge talkers, but I would have gladly murdered someone for a conversation at that second. Thankfully, words finally managed to escape from under the moustache, so I didn't have to go to that extreme.

"How's your mother?" he asked, staring straight ahead at the lights. He voice was quite deep, possibly a baritone. His fingers were still tapping away at the steering wheel.

"She's fine," I told him. "Her and Phil are happy enough." Thankfully, he stopped drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He still didn't look at me, but at the glaring red light. Perhaps this would be an opportunity for a conversation. "Have you found anyone?" I asked, not sure what to hope for. Didn't I have enough to adjust to? Had my dad ever got over Mom? He told me that as we pulled up that no, he hadn't, abruptly freeing us both from the contrived familiarity. We were never vocal at the best of times. I never did understand him.

Outside of the school I stood quaking, insignificant as an ant. Hearing the van splutter away, terror festered in my stomach. I shoved the fear down- I couldn't go through my life afraid. Thinking back to the van ride, I smiled in the comfort that, in a few hours, I'd be at the house again. Had I even say "bye" when I shut the door? Did he hear me if I did? Clutching my schoolbag, I tried to shake the thoughts from my head. Either way, it was the past now, so it didn't matter- I had a new world in front of me, and a present to focus on.

What if they didn't like me? What if I messed up? What if, what if, what if-

"You'll be fine, Izzy."


	3. Chapter 3

I'd never seen so much rain in all my life.

Outside, the rain seemed to go from a few droplets to a tempest as I blundered into the reception, bouncing off the sidewalk like shrapnel. Maybe that was why the woman behind the desk didn't look up when I opened the door. Caught in a daydream, she scraped a nail file against her fingertips, staring at her hand. Her nails were red- my favourite colour.

Hoping she would hear me I coughed, my mind buzzing with questions I'd been drowning in the entire morning. Where did I go? What was I meant to do? What if I did something mind-blowingly stupid? No such luck. Still filing her nails as though I wasn't even there, she hummed something under her breath- a pop song, I think. Another thing I needed to start paying attention to. Persisting, I tried again, a little louder this time in case she hadn't heard me over the bellowing wind. Eventually, she asked my name, waited for me to nod and shoved a piece of paper towards me before re-devoting her attention to her nails in case her they'd grown three inches while she wasn't looking. Perhaps she mumbled something, but I couldn't hear her over the rain clattering against the road like china, each fat droplet faster than a bullet from a machine gun. Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink. Sorry, Coleridge, but it was true.

Pressing my finger gently along the paper as I read the reading list, my lips stretched into a genuine smile and the tiniest amount of reassurance oozed into my veins, soothing me like opium. English Literature had Othello on the reading list. Rime of the Ancient Mariner was hidden among a few modern texts, too, so I wasn't completely doomed. And Emily Bronte! From the time I understood the alphabet, Mom had drilled the importance of reading into me and encouraged me to gobble up any literature I could get my hands on, an order I'd obeyed gladly. Perhaps it was the worrier in me- a book could take me to the Taj Mahal, the top of a waterfall or the cobbled streets of London, but if the imagery became too scary I could close the page until I was ready to come crawling back. Another Godsend was that I didn't have math on that day- if the subject was a person I'd punch it in the face.

My smiled faded when I realised that she haven't given me a map. Had she thought I wouldn't need one, considering the size of the building? What if I walked into the wrong English class? What if I couldn't find the toilets? What if I mistook a cupboard door for a classroom entrance? Alright, the last one was a little silly, but I didn't trust myself in this foreign building.

"Um, excuse me?" My feeble attempt at catching her attention was lost under the rain. Barely a minute later, when I'd gathered up enough courage to speak at a decent volume, she glanced up, her mouth unsmiling.

"Yes?" Her voice was sharp, tinny like a school bell. Swallowing, I took a step towards the desk, hating myself for daring to tremble. Was I that pathetic? What was I worried she'd do, give me a manicure?

"I... Could you tell me where Room Ten is, please?" I asked quietly, tucking an inexistent strand of hair behind my ear and lowering my eyes. It was then that it occurred to me that I probably should have brought a coat with me from Phoenix- the rainwater banging relentlessly against the window didn't sound ready to stop any time soon, and I didn't have much faith in my flimsy parka. I'd have to ask Charlie for money, assuming I could survive until three o'clock.

Fidgeting as I waited for the woman to find a map, I heard wet shoes slap against the floor. Turning around, I saw a girl of about my age dart in, wringing out a soaking wet lock of rum brown hair as she darted the desk.

"Hi, listen, I know I'm late but..." Gushing that she was sorry but traffic was hell and her car wouldn't start, the girl's apology turned into a strange melody from the speed she blurted it out, an odd, bouncing tune so quick that I was surprised her glossed lips didn't drop off. Folding her arms and raising her eyes to the ceiling as though this was a usual annoyance, the secretary eventually snapped at her to take "Miss Swan" to Biology, looking supremely irritated at the fact that she'd had to waste time on a chatterbox and a frightened stranger when she could have been filing what was left of her nails.

"Okay, it's down here, you take a left and then a right and it's just here but we're kind of early. What's your name again? Swan, right? Is that like officer Swan? I bet you don't get away with like anything, right? A cop's kid an' all. If it makes you feel better, my friend Angie's dad is a preacher. Can you imagine? Not that she'd do anything, though, that girl is an angel. You'll love her, she's great. You know anyone around here yet?"

Miss Motormouth(who introduced herself as Jessica) darted away from the glaring secretary and over to me, gushing hello and how was I finding Forks I'd love it there and I must have missed Forks and other things that got lost in the tornado of conversation. Not sure if I was necessary to this chat, I just let her babble- no point shooting the albatross. Besides, what was I meant to say to her? My friends were Stoker, Shelley and the Bronte sisters so if I was totally honest, Miss Motormouth was an alien to me. A helpful alien, mind you. In fact, the moment she darted off for French class after guiding me to my first class, I missed almost as much as I'd missed Mom on that first night in Forks.

When I got to English Literature, it was sheer luck that the only seat left was next to a boy with blond, messy hair that he kept having to brush away from his eyes. While not chattier than Jessica(if that was possibly), he did ask me about Phoenix, my mom, my friends(I made a few names up) and a few other things. Still frightened by all this new company, I forced myself to smile and give answers instead of grunts or nods, though I did catch myself fiddling once or twice. Luckily, the effort paid off- by the time the bell commanded us to go to dinner, he'd told me that his name was Mike, that he worked at his parents' D.I.Y store and that he wanted to be a teacher. Given the constant grin and his patience when I took too long to reply, I guessed he'd be good at it.

Thankfully, the torrent outside was starting to calm as Jessica, Mike and I sat down at a table. Once we'd sat down from the queue, my two new friends dropped their bags onto the two seat next to them. Wondering if I should do the same thing, I looked at the bags for a second.  
"Saving the seats Angela and Eric," Mike explained. "In case they come down today. You'll like them, won't she Jess?" Oddly quiet in comparison to that morning, Jessica agreed happily before asking if I'd met anyone apart from them, flashing a secret smile at Mike. Once I said I hadn't, they quickly set about pointing their friends out, pausing patiently to let me soak up the information. Running my eyes over the room, I tried to recite some of the names to check I'd got them right(I mostly didn't). Eyes flickered to a table a few feet away, I paused, goosebumps rising on my skin for some reason.

If they'd been chatting and smiling like everyone else, I probably wouldn't have noticed them. But this group of students seemed almost petrified, as though they'd sat like that for so long that they'd turned to stone. Sitting silently with their untouched meals, they seemed to radiate hostility judging from the way other students scooted away from their table unless walking past was totally necessary. Oddly, none of them seemed happy or even comfortable in each other's company; a tiny, skinny girl with short hair stared out of the window, a blond girl glanced at the apple on her tray as though someone had served her swill, a huge man who couldn't possibly have been young enough to attend a college had an arm snaked around the blond girl's shoulders, and a smaller boy with the expression of a hungry chiuaua sat rigid, arms by his sides and back straight as a ruler, as though he was a soldier preparing to salute his officer. Why were they hanging around each other to sit there wordless, not even trying to talk to each other? What was the point?

Skimming my eyes across the table to the final face, I flinched. The last student, a boy, was staring at me as though he'd mistaken me for an old friend and couldn't quite make out my features. His eyes wide open, he gawped unashamedly and leaned forward for a better leer. It was probably the closest thing to socialising any of them were doing. Embarrassment hot on my cheeks, I turned my head, tugging the lock of hair from behind my ear to hide my face, a few questions weaving their way into my head. Who were the group of teenagers and why were they hanging around each other when they didn't have a thing to say to each other? In a rare moment of silence, I asked Jessica their names. Quickly putting her sandwich down, she turned her head towards the group then glanced back to me, twisting the gold chain around her neck as though the group were so boring that she needed to do something to entertain herself while talking about them.  
"They're the Cullens. We think they bite. Watch," A moment later, she rose from the table and strode over to them. Within the two seconds it took Mike to ask what I thought she'd like on her gravestone, their expressions had sent her flying back to us.  
"What did they say?" I asked, leaning forward. "Did they say 'hi'?"  
"No chance. It's like talking to the Loch Ness Monster."  
"What is?"

The first thing that struck me about this girl was that, she seemed much nicer when seperated from her clique. While the blond girl looked lonely somehow, fidgeting with a lemon coloured curl, the friendliness in the little brunette's face shone like a sunbeam. The three men looked almost painted in their stillness; this girl bounced from foot to foot, witchy boots clacking against the linoleum. But the oddest thing about her had to be her eyes. Light and glistening like a nugget of gold in the bottom of a pan. Contacts, perhaps? They couldn't posibly be natural. Apparently I didn't hide my opinion very well, because the stranger giggled shrilly at my expression. Giggling back with the world's worst acting skills, I tried to pull my face into something that might resemble calmness. A proper Phoenix girl wouldn't have been so easily embarrassed. At least I didn't have to ask why she'd came over.  
"This fell out of you pocket," the yellow-eyed girl grinned, holding out a chewed blue biro to Jessica, who picked it up without a word. So much for biting. Perhaps the Cullens were simply shy? Just to check, I glanced at the smallest boy, the one who looked most like the other girl. Immediately, he turned his head, sporting the same expression he might have done if I'd jumped up on the table and stripped off.

Trying to break the silence, Jessica stopped fiddling with the necklace for a minute and pointed at me.  
"Alice, this is Bella," I didn't correct her. Bella? The name was adult, sophisticated- a heck of a lot more grown up than Izzy, anyway. Bella conjured up a picture of someone confident, someone with heaps of friends who wasn't scared of anything. In short, someone better than me. Turning to look at Mike, I realised that he's been too busy with his fries to notice. Maybe I'd transform to fit the name if I let it stick? After all, it helped Jane Eyre to become Jane Elliot. "Alice" snapped her head around to me, a laugh glittering in her odd eyes.  
"I know who she is, Jessica." How? my brain whispered, paranoia wiggling its way into my head like a worm into the dirt. Had people been talking about me? The school was tiny. Maybe this timid new girl was a novelty in a school with no strangers, even if she was a wimp. Either way, the glitter-eyed girl seemed happy enough to see me, her left hand clutching her arm as her mouth twitched into a little smile.

"How do you like this place, then?" she asked, eyes like sparklers. Her eyes amazed me. They were bewitching, spellbinding, frightening and fantastic. My mind threw up similes. Sunshine, gold, amber, wheat, brass, bronze. Nothing was good enough. I saw something in those eyes I couldn't place, something animal and raw. Fairy eyes, demon eyes, angel eyes.

Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Before I could answer, the bell interrupted, trilling out the order to get back to class. Smiling, the girl spun on tiptoe and flitted away, leaving me with a wink and a giggle.

"Well, I better go. Have a nice day. Make friends. Watch out for that van."


End file.
